Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/75

 In this still Labyrinth, around her lye Spells Philters, Globes, and Schemes of Palmistry: A Sigil in this Hand the Gypsie bears, In th'other a prophetick Sive and Sheers.

The Dame by Divination knew that soon The Magus wou'd appearand then begun Hail, sacred Seer! thy Embassie I know, Wars must ensue, the Fates will have it so. Dread Feats shall follow, and Disasters great, Pills charge on Pills, and Bolus Bolus meet: Both Sides shall conquer, and yet Both shall fall; The Mortar now, and then the Urinal.

To thee alone my Influence I owe; Where Nature has deny'd, my Favours flow. 'Tis I that give (so mighty is my Pow'r) Faith to the Jew, Complexion to the Moor. I am the Wretch's Wish, the Rook's Pretence, The Sluggard's Ease, the Coxcomb's Providence. Sir Scrape-Quill, once a supple smiling Slave, Looks lofty now, and insolently Grave; Builds, Settles, Purchases, and has each Hour Caps from the Rich, and Curses from the Poor. Spadillio, that at Table serv'd o'late, Drinks rich Tockay himself, and eats in Plate; Has Levees, Villas, Mistresses in store, And owns the Racers which he rubb'd before.

Souls heav'nly born my faithless Boons defy; The Brave is to himself a Deity. Tho'